Two steps from hell.
Two steps from hell. (April is poetry month. A re-write. Number eleven) In a dark Gypsy carnival years ago. A beautiful Gypsy woman told me once. You are two steps from hell. Hell… Continue reading
Two steps from hell. (April is poetry month. A re-write. Number eleven) In a dark Gypsy carnival years ago. A beautiful Gypsy woman told me once. You are two steps from hell. Hell… Continue reading
Friendship? A good day to be alive my friend. A Poem by Coyote Poetry “Each day is a opportunity to do something good.” A good day to be alive my friend (Can you… Continue reading
When the drinker prays. Once brave man, once soldiers, once businessman and now a grandfather. He watched his world fall into madness and he pours three fingers of Gentleman Jack. Once he believed… Continue reading
Passing through. A poet and writer exchanging words and thoughts. The Coffee house poet told the writer. We can never win. Jack London once wrote. “The gods always win. Men believe they can… Continue reading
A wing and a prayer. He told the Lake St. Clair. We become, who suppose become. Hell-bound life can lead us to place of peace. He told the lady of the lake. Kind… Continue reading
“Imagine there’s no countriesIt isn’t hard to doNothing to kill or die forAnd no religion tooImagine all the peopleLiving life in peaceYou may say that I’m a dreamerBut I’m not the only oneI… Continue reading
Ancient floors. In the mirrors of time.Old windows may never be closed.Surging memories and regret leave us wishing we were kinder and better.The broken roads leave me spiraling in the memories of kind… Continue reading
Are we teaching hate or are we teaching love? A Poem by Coyote PoetryMy morning thoughts. When we teach our children love and hate in the same conversation. Did we teach the children well?… Continue reading
We lived once and what did we leave behind? The year March 2026 was a hard one. I have become the senior person in my family. I am in the Autumn of my… Continue reading
The war, the blood and the gun. No-one is screaming for the child of war. They have known only blood and the sound of war. Who do we blame my friend? War is… Continue reading